


The Universe Conspired To Help Me Find You

by CyanideStungun



Category: GOT7
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-10 03:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10427664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideStungun/pseuds/CyanideStungun
Summary: “So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.” ― Paulo Coelho, The AlchemistLosing one's soulmate is awful, especially as young as Mark is. But do second chances really exist? And how is he supposed to handle it when that second chance comes to him on the anniversary of the worst day of his life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting a Markson fic even though it's not the first one I've written by far. Shout out to my best friends for reading over this, especially dinolaur who doesn't follow KPop at all. You da real MVP.

The room smelled of sweat and sex, but as Mark inhaled deeply, the scent that stuck out the most was the one that was so uniquely Jackson. There was no way to fake or reproduce that smell; Mark would know, as he’d tried before. But that didn’t matter now because Jackson was here with Mark, and everything seemed right with the world for the first time in forever.

And yet it still felt a little off as he dragged his fingers over Jackson’s chest, sliding across quickly cooling skin until his palm could rest flat over Jackson’s heart. He allowed himself to revel in the way it slowed from a thunderous pounding to a gentler pulse, his own following suit. It was such a simple thing, and yet it brought a smile to Mark’s face, though the emotion quickly faded into sadness, and he shut his eyes to ward off the unbidden memories. 

“Don’t you think this is weird?” he asked after a few moments, voice cutting the silence easily despite its low timbre. He wasn’t exactly sure that Jackson was even still awake at this point, but the question slipped from his lips so suddenly that he couldn’t stop it.

Jackson seemed to rouse from a half-sleeping state, a shiver running through him from the soft brush of lips and warm breath over his skin. He drew Mark closer, sliding a hand up to cradle the back of his head and stroke the soft blonde strands in a comforting way. “No… why? Do you think it’s weird? Is it weird? I mean, you and me… we were always meant to be together right? So… why is this weird? I don’t think it’s weird!”

The softest exhale of a chuckle escaped Mark, and he re-opened his eyes as he shifted to rest his chin on Jackson’s chest, eyes tracing over the familiar lines of his face. “It still feels weird, even if we are supposed to be together…”

Jackson’s pout brought another chuckle from Mark, and he reached up to brush the hair away from Jackson’s forehead, continuing his thought before Jackson could interject.

“I guess I might be overthinking it… maybe it’s not so much weird as it is surreal? Completely unbelievable?”

Expression softening, Jackson nudged Mark up a little more so he could press his lips to Mark’s forehead. “I guess I can agree with that. It is completely unbelievable, but shouldn’t that mean we take the chance while we have it? Not question things? I don’t want to question too much and take my focus off of us.”

It was hard to hold onto that ill-at-ease feeling in the face of such a positive outlook. Looking on the bright side was such an inherently Jackson thing to do, and Mark just smiled, leaning up to steal a kiss before fitting himself to Jackson’s side once more. As he dragged the blankets up and wrapped himself around Jackson, he vowed to take not a single moment for granted ever again.

“You’re right… I want to spend every moment I can with you now that I have you.”

With Mark relaxed once more and snuggling up so cutely to him, Jackson was already drifting off and he murmured something akin to “Ditto bro,” making Mark laugh again. Jackson was either so unapologetically romantic or so absolutely frat that it was hard to believe he was the same person from moment to moment. At the same time, that was something so familiar and safe, even when nothing else seemed to be. He had Jackson; he didn’t need anything else.

With that thought, Mark closed his eyes one last time, listening to Jackson’s even breathing and willing himself to slip off to sleep.

~*~*~*~

Time was a curious thing. It could make minutes feel like hours and hours feel like mere seconds, depending on how the time was spent. To Mark, it felt like eons ago now, but in reality it had only been just a short week ago that he’d been sitting alone in his small, single person apartment, wrapped up in his favorite blanket on the couch. All the lights were off, just the glow of a handful of candles that were already half burned away to illuminate this small piece of his world. 

Among various other items a cup of untouched tea sat on the table, long grown cold with an almost emptied tissue box sat beside it. The other objects were mementos of a life that seemed so far away now.

Just that short week ago, it had been the one year anniversary of Jackson’s death.

Of course, a year passing hadn’t made the loss any easier or any more bearable, but then again, Mark was sure that no matter how much time passed, he’d never be able to bear the loss of the one person who was his sun and his stars.

Some days, he wasn’t even sure he was going to make it much longer.

That wasn’t to say that he was a risk to himself. No. Suicide was not even an option in his mind. Even if many people seemed to think that it might be. Instead, Mark was almost positive that eventually his body might just give up. His heart might stop beating because why should it continue when Jackson’s couldn’t? Why should his lungs draw breath when Jackson’s never would again? It wasn’t fair that someone so full of life could be so easily extinguished due to the careless, reckless actions of another person and also that the same thing that took Jackson’s life had spared Mark’s own. What a mercy that was, right? Alive but without Jackson. What kind of life was that?

As he sat on the couch lost in thought, his fingers clenched and unclenched around one of Jackson’s favorite necklaces, the gold in his hand blurring as his eyes filled with tears not for the first time that day. Tears of sorrow and anger, overwhelming him and leaving his shoulders shaking as he tried to stifle the sobs that broke through regardless.

He’d actually spent the preceding days in random bouts of tears; thankfully he’d had enough leave and understanding bosses to take a couple weeks away from his job. His usual hard working and no days off nature meant it had been no trouble when he requested the leave. But that didn’t make it any easier. He shouldn’t have had to take this much time off, not for this reason anyway. These vacation days should have been used for exactly that: a vacation, Jackson at his side, the two of them on their way to wherever their hearts desired.

Instead, Mark was alone. He’d never get to go on another spontaneous adventure with Jackson again. 

With a shuddering breath, Mark scrubbed at his eyes to clear his vision, reaching out of his cocoon to pick up Jackson’s cell phone in his free hand. The screen was cracked, forever a reminder of the awful accident, but it still worked and Mark had charged it for the first time in a year so he could look through the pictures.

A sad smile remained on his face as he flipped through the camera roll. The number of selfies Jackson had was only rivaled by the number of candid pictures he took of Mark. Mark passed those photos without much regard; he didn’t want to see his own face, especially not the face of the Mark who was still happy and had Jackson. Instead, he laid on the couch, looking over the photos and watching the videos on the phone. For just a brief moment, he could relive their life together through the stream of images, letting himself fall into memories that would ease the ache in his chest, if only for a little while. There was no place he had to go and no one he had to see; everyone had understood his request to be alone and had either visited him the day prior or were due to visit him the day after.

Jinyoung had come by the day before, dropping off fully prepared meals for Mark; there was no questioning why he was the group’s “mother.” However, Mark was now going to have to make it look like he ate some of it or face the wrath of Jinyoung’s mothering when he realized the food was untouched. He wasn’t quite sure which would be more painful to endure at the moment. Either way, he wasn’t going to be able to eat. His appetite was non-existent, and forcing himself to eat would only result in making himself sick.

His entire being felt so utterly drained, and all he wanted to do now was sleep, but at the same time, his body wouldn’t let him. He bitterly thought it would be better if he could just sleep through the entire day and be done with it. But when he’d woken up at six that morning, no matter how hard he tried, he could not fall asleep again. He’d briefly contemplated taking sleeping pills, but he wasn’t quite so sure he trusted himself with them.

Reaching the end of the camera roll, he set the phone back down on the table, reaching for his tea finally. His hand recoiled at the almost frigid temperature of the mug, and he resigned himself to getting up to reheat it, needing the hot drink to burn away the lump in his throat. Still, it took all the energy he had to simply stand from the couch, weakly grabbing his tea to reheat it in the microwave.

As soon as the microwave was set, Mark found he couldn’t remain standing and instead slid to the floor, blankets pulled up around him. His head swam from combination of crying all day, exhaustion, lack of nourishment, and just the overall general shittiness of the day. Resting his head against the cabinet to his left, he closed his eyes, finally getting a respite from thought as he dozed fitfully.

It wasn’t clear how long he napped there on the floor, but if the microwave had gone off, he hadn’t heard it. But jolting awake, his stomach churned and his head pounded in a way that made him just want to lie on the couch until the feeling passed.

Tripping over a chair he was sure hadn’t been there before, he stumbled back out to the living room, more furniture having seemingly moved in his way solely to hinder his path to the couch, but eventually he made it, laying down with a quiet groan. He only had enough time to wrap his blanket all around him once more, only the smallest crack open to allow for breathing before the pain made him black out. 

Mark was left in a blissfully dreamless sleep, time passing without notice around him in his safe little cocoon. He only awoke when he heard his door opening, scrunching his face up beneath the blanket. It wasn’t that odd for someone to be entering his apartment; Jinyoung and Yugyeom both had a set of spare keys. What was strange – but maybe not that strange – was that no one was supposed to be bothering him today. 

The light in the living room came on, and he drew the blanket further around his head and face, shielding himself from the sudden bright light. Whichever of the two it was, they certainly had some nerve to intrude upon him like this.

As he tried to work up the energy to be angry at whoever it was, he was beaten to the punch by a harsh, anger-filled voice that made his blood run cold and his heart stop mid-beat in his chest.

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you to dinolaur for grammar beta. You're a true bro, even if you'll never see these notes. Also thank you to everyone who commented/gave kudos/and bookmarked! I write for myself but I cannot deny the pleasure I take in your feedback. The first chapter and this one both overwhelmed me with feelings while writing them, so hopefully they have some of the same affect on you all!

No matter how amazing a life you may lead there would always be a worst day of your life. A day you would think back on and see as being the lowest moment in your existence. For some, that may be a day that was relatively good compared to the worst day in another person’s life. For most, it was a single day that would forever stick out as the absolutely foulest point in their existence. For others still, there might be a few days that were comparable in levels of horrificness and therefore more accurately described as the worst days of their life.

For Jackson, every day since that day one year ago was the worst day of his life.

Three hundred and sixty five days of the worst day of his life, and Jackson knew it wasn’t going to stop feeling that way for a long time. This wasn’t something he was just going to be able to leave in the past. Losing your other half wasn’t something you simply got over and moved on from. Not when everything reminded you of them and there wasn’t a second that passed without you missing them.

Maybe it was possible for other people to move on, find someone else, and have that new happiness fill in the cracks created by the loss. But Jackson wasn’t other people. Not only did he miss Mark desperately, but perhaps even worse was how vividly he was able to imagine what life would be if Mark was still with him. Even in the off chance that anyone could capture his heart again, he couldn’t let himself have another relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them because, after all, how could you meet and love, then lose your soulmate and _not_ compare any other relationship after to the one you lost? He didn’t want to inflict that on someone any more than he wanted to move on from Mark. There absolutely was no moving on for Jackson; Mark was the only one he wanted to be with. It was a simple as that. He could live knowing that however brief it was, he’d been able to know the deepest, most passionate love he would ever find. It was clear he was already settled into the notion of a life of solitude.

At least in the romantic side of affairs.

He’d always have his family and friends by his side, and that was something he wasn’t going to leave behind, no matter how deep into despair he fell. Mark wouldn’t want that for him, and it simply wasn’t in Jackson’s nature to be an absolute hermit. He loved people too much to completely isolate himself. At any rate, he knew some time in the future he’d want to be there as his friends married and had kids. By the time that happened, he would have healed enough to be that never married, cool uncle who was always ready to spoil the kids. That was his fated role now, and he’d be happy with it when it happened.

But at the present time, there was next to nothing that would bring him happiness, especially not on this particular day. A year ago he'd lost the moon of his life, and there was nothing to be done to change that.

A wry smile graced his face at the thought of those ridiculous terms of endearments that they'd stolen from Game of Thrones. And how fitting they were indeed because what good was Jackson as the sun if he didn't have his moon to reflect light back to him? He’d always had trouble seeing his own self-worth, but now he was without Mark who had always shown him just how special he was.

It was bordering on eleven at night as he arrived outside of his apartment complex. Despite being there for the full working day, it had simultaneously been too short and far too long. On the bright side, it had been one of his most productive days in a long time; he’d finished almost two full days’ worth of work in an effort not to focus on the terrible anniversary. The only problem with that was at quitting time, he had no logical reason to ask to stay late and continue working. Everything was completed as fully as it could be at the moment.

A blessing came in the form of his friends who, knowing what day it was, all made themselves as available as possible to play distraction for him. It worked supremely well from the end of the work day until now, when Jackson knew he was going to have to go home. He’d known all along that at the end of the day he’d be home alone, and when he finally was, everything was going to hit him all at once.

As he looked up at his building, gazing at the dark window of his apartment, he was suddenly glad that Jaebum had had the foresight to make Jackson ask for the following day off. The aftermath of his emotions unleashed would promise to bring something worse than his most horrible hangover.

Pulling his keys from the pocket of his jacket, he paused as he reached out to unlock the front door, looking at the items in his hand. The various keys and keychains he had that mostly had purposes. However, tucked in the middle was a small Pokémon keychain set. It was another one of their silly couple things; he was Squirtle and Mark was Pikachu. Before the accident, Jackson had only had his Squirtle on his key ring. Now he carried both, even though the Pikachu was a bit scuffed up and one of the ears had broken in the accident. If that was the only way Mark and Jackson were going to get to be together, in the form of two plastic figures, Jackson was going to keep them together.

A lump formed in his throat as he stood there, and he had to shake himself out of thought to open the door; he wasn’t going to have his meltdown in public, much less right outside the safety of his apartment.

The elevator seemed to be completely against him as it took forever to make its way to the lobby. His leg bounced impatiently before he muttered a low “Fuck it” and ran to the stairwell, racing up each flight as fast as he could. Another time he might be grateful for his amazing leg strength, but right now he just cared about taking the stairs two or three at a time and making it to his floor.

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes as he all but burst out onto his floor, fumbling with the keys. His hands shook as he tried to find the correct one, and even when he did it was like he’d never used keys before in his life. The key left scratches around the lock as he frantically attempted to unlock his door. At this time his chest burned with the need for air, but he refused to take even a small breath lest it give way to the flood of emotions he had barely any restraint on.

With the door finally unlocked, he pushed inside, shutting it behind him to suck in a relieved breath. He was inside his own home now, so close to sinking down onto his couch and finally letting everything out.  
  
Or so he thought. For as he flipped the switch on to illuminate the room, there was a distinctly human shaped lump, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, lying on his couch. It wasn’t just any blanket this intruder had chosen to use either. No, it was Mark’s favorite blanket. One of the few items of Mark’s that Jackson kept out in plain sight, usually in his bed and solely for his own use.

Anger began to bubble up inside of him, replacing all the misery he’d felt just seconds ago with a white hot rage. His fists clenched at his sides, and he could feel his lip twitching upward in a snarl. On a normal day, he would of course be angry and alarmed to find someone in his apartment, but today of all days was _not_ the day for this kind of bullshit.

He watched the figure on the couch shift and curl in on themselves, trying to shield their face from the light. In that moment, something in Jackson’s chest snapped, and his voice came out as a harsh growl, filled with all of the emotions he’d been avoiding releasing all day.

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, sorry for this taking almost a month to complete but sometimes my brain doesn't work. That being said, no beta on this chapter aside from various questions to my dear dinolaur, so any mistakes are entirely mine. Feel free to point them out so I can be publicly shamed.

It wasn’t so much the words that were said that had Mark struggling to breathe but rather the voice that said them. There was absolutely no way that voice belonged to who he thought it did, and yet there was no way it could be anyone else’s voice. He’d only heard that voice in dreams and in recordings for the past year, but now it was crystal clear and very obviously right in the same room as him. Maybe he’d finally lost it. That was the only explanation right? He’d cracked and was imagining a voice. Were audible hallucinations a thing?

His first instinct was to stay right where he was on the couch with his blanket wrapped around him; if he didn’t look, he couldn’t be proven wrong. But on the same token, if he didn’t look… he would never know if he was right. And then there was the fact that while he might be imagining the voice, the lights had come on and someone was definitely in his apartment. Even in all his grief, he still had the smallest amount of self-preservation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat upright and with trembling hands he pulled the blanket down off his head.

The light in the room was brighter than expected but while he had to squint and shield his eyes, he heard a sharp inhale in shock, making him take his own shaky breath in. Rubbing his eyes in an attempt to make them adjust faster, his action became almost frantic when he heard a small thud, his heart racing in alarm. When shapes were finally becoming clear in his vision and he blinked away the rest of the blur, he didn’t know what to think. Any color he might have had in his face drained away at what he saw.

Sitting on the floor in front of the door was the unmistakable figure of Jackson Wang.

The longer he looked, the more Mark felt like he might pass out. There was no way Jackson could be there; he was dead! But at the same time, Mark knew he wasn’t imagining this Jackson. This Jackson was too thin, too tired for Mark’s liking; like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal or had a proper night’s sleep in ages. Too pale and tired and nothing like what Mark would picture him as. If this Jackson truly was a hallucination, he would be in full health and glowing like he always was in Mark’s memories. Not to mention that he last memory of Jackson – and therefore his most imagined – was of a blonde Jackson. The man before him had his natural hair color.

There was absolutely no doubt about the fact that this was a real, living Jackson. But that still didn’t make any sense.

How was this even possible? Mark didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either, especially if it meant losing this moment. Just the fact that Jackson was sitting mere feet away from him was overwhelming and he thought he might start crying again. Everything in him screamed for him to move, to cross the room and reach out to touch, to confirm what his mind was already sure of. No matter how much he wanted to for some reason Mark couldn’t make his body move at all. This just left the two of them locked in an intense stare, accompanied only by the sounds of their breathing.

~*~*~*~

All the anger that had built up in Jackson’s chest seemed to disappear at once as the blanket-hood came off. The rage was replaced by the most devastating feeling of shock, accompanied by a gasp so harsh, it made Jackson’s lungs hurt. From the rumpled blonde hair – in desperate need a touch up job, his mind supplied rather unhelpfully – to the lean frame that was quickly becoming discernible beneath the blanket; there was only one person it could be. And yet, it couldn’t be him. It wasn’t possible, right? Jackson was coming home from a day full of avoiding grief over Mark’s death, only to find Mark himself sitting on his couch. There was no way.

For one of the very few times in his life, Jackson Wang was left completely speechless, though his thoughts were running a mile a minute.

Maybe it was a ghost. Jackson knew immediately that was a ridiculous idea, but at the same time he would be more than willing to be haunted by Mark’s ghost. Hell, he would do everything in his power to make a relationship with a ghost work if it meant being with Mark again. Outside of the apartment it might be difficult, especially if he was the only one who could see Mark, but he didn’t really care much what other people would think. He’d have Mark and that was all that would matter.

He was so lost in his contemplation over human and ghost relations that it took him a moment to realize he could actually see the rise and fall of Mark’s chest, hear him breathing in the silence. The idea of Mark being actually real and alive in front of him was suddenly a possibility. It was then he started to really study Mark, his eyes sliding over Mark’s face and taking in the sunken features of an already skinny person suddenly too thin. There were dark bags under Mark’s eyes that screamed of sleep deprivation, and his expression was one of complete shock like he hadn’t expected to see Jackson either.

The closer he looked, the more he realized that Mark was undeniably solid looking, and if he was a ghost, Mark wouldn’t look so different than he’d appeared before his death. If movies taught Jackson anything, it was the fact that only the ghosts who had done some bad shit on earth took on a more devastated form. Mark was too good of a person to be living a hellish existence after death.

Jackson watched as this Mark squinted and rubbed his eyes, clearly trying to adjust from the darkness of his cocoon to the brightness of the room. That was also a definitely living thing to do. Whoever this Mark was, he was alive, and suddenly it was all too much for Jackson to bear. He found his legs giving out beneath him and he slid to the floor with a thump, back resting against the door.

It seemed as though Mark’s eyes finally adjusted as Jackson watched his cheeks pale. The lack of color made Mark’s already dismal appearance even worse, and Jackson wanted nothing more than to get up and run to him. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t move; his body wasn’t responding to commands. This left him sitting there, staring back at Mark silently as he tried to wrap his mind around the entire situation.

~*~*~*~

Time seemed to just continue around them as they sat there for who knew how long. Or maybe it had stopped completely as they simply watched each other, unsure what was going on. Neither male was in any hurry to figure out what was happening so long as it meant they could continue existing in the same space for the moment.

Surprisingly, it was Mark who ultimately broke the spell. Swallowing thickly, his voice came out in a rough croak. “Jack… Jackson?”

Mark’s voice made Jackson shudder, clenching his eyes closed tightly for a moment before reopening them. Mark was still right there. He’d spoken to him. Had said his name. All the evidence pointed to Mark actually being right there in front of him. It was finally enough to have his body start working again, and Jackson scrambled to his feet, rushing across the room to the couch. He stopped just short of throwing his arms around Mark, instead reaching out a trembling hand that hovered right next to Mark’s face. Even with everything indicating Mark was real, Jackson couldn’t bring himself to close the hairbreadth of space between his palm and Mark’s cheek. There was no telling what was going to happen, what he’d feel when he did. Would Mark be solid? Intangible? Cold and clammy, or soft and warm? If he touched him, would Mark disappear and leave him alone once more?

He could tell by the expression on Mark’s face, his wide eyes and lips slightly parted in anxious anticipation, that Mark was thinking exactly the same thoughts as he was. Which didn’t really make any sense in the moment but then again, nothing made sense right now.

It was unclear who made the first move, but a moment later Mark’s face was pressed into Jackson’s hand and he was warm, soft, and alive. Their expressions were mirror images of surprise and awe, and then it was a flurry of limbs as Jackson tried to gather Mark into his arms while Mark attempted to wrap himself around Jackson despite being tangled in his blanket.

There were tears and bruisingly tight grips, stifled sobs and muttered words of comfort that made no sense but still soothed. The entire situation still lacked any real explanation but for the time being, all that mattered was they were somehow both there. They’d address the situation soon, but for now there wasn’t a second to waste on logic or reason when they were both full of such raw emotions.

The time they spent tangled together was undoubtedly not long enough for either of them, but as the tears dried and their nerves settled, the whys and the hows began to nag at the back of their minds.

Mark was the first to pull back to gaze at Jackson thoughtfully, though he didn’t break the physical contact even as he scrubbed at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. He couldn’t help but reach up, gently petting Jackson’s hair and trailing fingers down his face, resting his hand against Jackson’s cheek, stroking over the skin idly with his thumb.

Though it took quite a bit of effort, he spared a second to look around, his expression turning into confusion. While the general layout was still the same, this definitely wasn’t his apartment.

Jackson was still staring at him and caught on to the confusion on Mark’s face quickly, tilting his head to the side. “What is it?” he asked, his voice soft as if even speaking too loudly would make Mark disappear.

“I… Where is this?”

“My apartment, why?”

“…I was in my apartment and I… ended up here. But this looks like my apartment only not.”

It was Jackson’s turn to look confused, and the expression was one entirely too endearing and also oh so familiar, making Mark want to forget about anything other than just watching Jackson. The gears seemed to be turning in his mind and Mark could see something was starting to click for Jackson.

“What address is your apartment?” Jackson asked after a moment of thought, waiting until Mark started to speak before reciting along with him.

“626 8th Street, Apt 52.”

Mark stared hard at Jackson, studying his face. “That’s… weird.”

Jackson let out a quiet snort. “About as weird as you being on my couch when you’ve been dead for a year.”

“….You’re the one who’s been dead for a year.”

Silence followed Mark’s declaration and another staring match ensued. Jackson decided he couldn’t wrap his head around this without a drink and stood, pulling Mark up with him. Entwining their fingers to keep contact, he led the way to the kitchen to retrieve two beers.

Mark followed easily, looking around as he did and finding that even the kitchen was the same layout. He couldn’t help but stare around in awe; they really lived in the same apartment. All of the belongings here were obviously different than his own, but beneath that, down to the strokes of paint on the wall and the various superficial damage to the cabinets, it was the same. Damn. Apartment.

There was just too little information for Mark to wrap his head around what was happening, but enough information to start to drive him crazy. Jackson had said Mark was the one who died a year ago and then there was the fact they both lived in the same apartment. The latter wouldn’t be so disconcerting if it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t the apartment they’d shared together prior to the accident. Instead, both of them had actively chosen to move out of the apartment they used to call home, and into the same one bedroom apartment.

A cold beer nudged against his hand, breaking him out of thoughts that could drive him mad. He looked up to see Jackson watching him with a concerned expression; clearly they were both confused but at the same time to just have each other again was something all too incredible to ignore. Jackson was either handling it better than Mark was, or he wasn’t giving it any thought because he knew madness lay down that path.

With a deep breath to try to relax the tension building in his limbs, Mark unconsciously tightened his grip on Jackson’s hand as he took the proffered beer with a quiet thanks. He was still wondering when everything was going to fade away, back into the dark of his living room and back to a life without Jackson. Once again following after Jackson, Mark chose to focus on recommitting Jackson to his memory. A year apart left things fuzzy in some aspects and to have a chance to see it all again was not something to miss.

Jackson sat on the couch first, immediately pulling Mark between his legs and adjusting them into a comfortable position. Mark’s back pressed into Jackson’s chest snuggly, Jackson’s arm snaking around his waist to hold him tight, and Mark almost wept again at the secure feeling of being held by Jackson. There was no space between them and Mark was not complaining at all.

Using his free hand, Jackson twisted the top off Mark’s beer before letting Mark return the favor, speaking as he did. “Okay so… you’re saying… I’ve been dead for a year… and you live in this apartment… But I say you’ve been dead for a year and this is my apartment. I moved here after the accident… I couldn’t stay in our old apartment.”

The mention of an accident had Mark squirming around a bit to look at Jackson in the eye. “Accident? Can you… Can you tell me about the accident?”

Mark regretted asking as Jackson’s expression turned pained, but he gave a short nod and took a long drink before speaking.

“We were driving home from dinner with Jaebum and Jinyoung. It was late, but a really clear evening. We took a longer route home because you said you wanted to see the stars… But as we were coming around a turn, another car came racing around and slammed into us.” He had to take a moment to collect himself, swallowing thickly as tears welled up in his eyes. “...You died on impact. The only good thing… Meant you didn’t suffer.”

A second was all it took for his expression to change as he seemed to remember more from that night, a look of anger clouding his eyes. Mark was surprised to hear the venom and hatred in Jackson’s voice as he continued. “They were drunk. Fucking… Double the limit. And they walked away without any injuries.”

Mark didn’t even hesitate to set his bottle down, turning to kneel between Jackson’s legs and wrap his arms tightly around, slender fingers carding through his hair in a soothing manner. Jackson buried his face in Mark’s chest, shoulders shaking as he fought back angry tears. Even a year later it was so painful to think about. And that pain became even worse when Mark spoke next.

”That’s… that’s the same thing. Except you didn’t die on impact… I was knocked unconscious and when I came to it was to hear you coding in the ER. They didn’t tell me but I overheard them saying you aggravated your injuries struggling to get to me… To make sure I was okay.”

It was Jackson’s turn to soothe Mark now, pulling him back down, cradling him tightly against his chest and kissing his temple. He shook his head as Mark shuddered, speaking into his hair. “I know what you’re thinking and it wasn’t your fault, okay? Whatever it was I did, it wasn’t your fault.”

A soft, self-deprecating snort left Mark as he hid his face in Jackson’s neck, taking deep breaths to calm the urge to cry. “… It was me who wanted to see the stars,” he reminded gently, jolting when Jackson pulled him up to hold Mark’s face in both of his hands.

“Not your fault!” he repeated firmly, their eyes locked together and for once, Mark actually felt like he could believe it. That it wasn’t his fault.

Jackson seemed to be waiting for an affirmation so he gave a half-smile, nodding and covering Jackson’s hands with his own. “Alright. Not my fault.”

Satisfied with the response, Jackson hugged Mark tight to himself again, reaching for his bottle and taking a drink as Mark did the same. “So what is this then? Some kind of… multi-dimensional shit? Like the butterfly effect? One small detail made the difference between who died that night? … Still doesn’t explain how you’re here.”

Mark shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know… I keep thinking it’s all a dream. Some sort of vivid imagining brought on by a need for closure. You’re probably not even real…”

Jackson’s face contorted in an affronted pout, huffing quietly. “Hey! I am so real! I’m the realest thing ever!”

“Exactly what dream you would say…” Mark replied with an eye roll, taking another drink before setting his bottle down, opting to curl up and tangle his fingers in Jackson’s shirt instead. “But I don’t care if you’re not real… I’ll take it. It’s a lot better than the lonely alternative.”

“So I’m like you’re imaginary boyfriend?” Jackson snickered, humming softly in thought. “We could call JB or Jinyoung or someone… have them come over and confirm I’m real.”

“I’m not sharing you with anyone else right now. And what good would that do if they’re just dream versions of themselves anyway?”

“… You don’t have to be so logical about it.” The pout was evident in his voice as he nuzzled into Mark’s hair.

It was such an undeniably Jackson action that for the first time in forever, Mark felt an honest to goodness smile spread on his face. Whatever this was, he never wanted it to end. “How about… we just enjoy tonight, okay? Whether I’m real, or you’re real, or neither of us are real… I just want to pretend nothing happened and we’ve never been apart.”

“Alright. We’ll do just that.” Jackson nodded, settling them both further into the couch. Pausing, he smiled softly. “Hey Markie?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

“……. I love you too, Gaga.”

~*~*~*~

For the next few hours, the two stayed cuddled together on the couch, catching up on all the things that had happened in the past year. It was such an odd disconnect to talk about their lives without each other, but at the same time the flow of conversation was easy and familiar. If it weren’t for the amount of things they had to share, it would almost be a normal ‘how was your day’ conversation for them.

While they never ran out of things to say before, there was definitely not a shortage now, especially with all the things they thought they’d never get to say to each other after the accident. They talked and talked, Mark curled up against Jackson’s chest and playing with his fingers, while Jackson used his freehand to stroke through Mark’s hair.

Neither of them broached the hard topics, like the fact they were both severely lacking in physical and mental health. Or the fact that Mark was more jumpy than he’d ever been, or how Jackson drank more now. They focused on the good things, and reveled in how even in the short time they were reunited, they could see life return to each other’s face and a bit of a spark come back to their eyes. It was just the sort of pick me up they needed at this point, and it came not a moment too soon.

As the night turned to early morning and then turned to daybreak, they didn’t separate, even as the yawning became more frequent and the conversations slowed. Mark found himself fighting to stay awake but everything about Jackson’s presence was reassuring and comforting, urging him to drift off into the first safe sleep in a year.

Jackson chuckled lowly, clearly able to see how Mark was struggling. “Why don’t we move to the bed? It’s a lot more comfortable…”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Mark mumbled, rubbing his eyes like a petulant child resisting bedtime. “I just want to stay up with you.”

“Okay but you can not sleep in the bedroom just as easily as you could out here.”

Mark scrunched up his nose and pouted. “Now who’s being so logical?”

Jackson simply chuckled again, nudging Mark to stand before following. Wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist, he waddle-walked the two of them into the bedroom. “Maybe I’m just trying to get you into my bed,” he purred teasingly in Mark’s ear.

With his own laugh, Mark turned his head kissing Jackson’s jaw in a way that was so habitual that it only struck him in that moment that an ache had been building in him since he’d first seen Jackson again. 

In the middle of the bedroom, less than a foot from the bed, Mark turned around in Jackson’s hold, ignoring the questioning look as he grasped Jackson’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together in a long, slow kiss. The contact sated the ache but only served to create a deeper burn in Mark’s chest, one that threatened to consume him but he found he didn’t care. The kiss was unhurried and yet so full of passion it made his head spin, but he didn’t dare pull back. Who needed oxygen when he finally had Jackson again?

By the time they broke apart, both were panting softly into the shared air between them. Jackson’s eyes were glassy as he studied Mark’s face, reaching up to brush away a tear Mark hadn’t even noticed. “Has my kissing got so bad it makes you cry?” he asked, trying to joke around to calm the swirl of emotions around them.

Mark shook his head, pressing in to steal another, shorter kiss. “No. Not at all. It was so good I cried tears of joy.” And while thinking about it, that was honestly the reason, it was also an incredibly cheesy line and Mark was pleased when Jackson barked out a laugh, hugging him tighter.

“My Yien, being all sappy. I love it!” he cried, pressing kisses all over Mark’s face while Mark laughed and just held tight.

They fell into the bed together, stealing kisses and giggling like a couple of schoolkids. Jackson moved them around to get comfortable under the covers, pulling the blankets over them. Mark paused, looking for a moment before saying, “That’s my blanket.”

“Yea… Don’t think I didn’t notice the hoodie you’re wearing is mine,” Jackson replied.

While the entire situation behind the mementos was a miserable one, it was still nice to know they each had belongings from the other that they kept and cherished. Tucking his head beneath Jackson’s chin, Mark smiled softly, idly drawing circles on Jackson’s chest, feeling the warmth beneath his hand. He could feel his eyes start to slide close, and unlike in the living room, he felt no reason to resist. He was halfway asleep when Jackson tucked a gentle finger beneath his chin to lift his face, kissing him one last time and whispering words of love against his lips before letting him settle back down and drift off to sleep with a smile.

When Mark woke up, the sun was shining in through the window brightly, making it difficult to stay asleep. Whining he rubbed his eyes, starting to sit up when he looked around. Everything in the room was his and there was no sign of Jackson anywhere. Despite what he had told himself about being happy enough to have that moment even as a dream, he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing back into his pillows with a sob.


End file.
